


you've got a pretty blush

by snuffleslove



Category: One Direction
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:37:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snuffleslove/pseuds/snuffleslove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(very) loosely written based off two prompts, where harry is zayn's best friend and watches her date a lot of shit guys, whilst secretly pining</p>
            </blockquote>





	you've got a pretty blush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estrella30](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estrella30/gifts).



"He's not a shithead, shut up Styles you don't even _know_ him," Zayn defends, her voice strung out by only three vodka shots. Harry rolls his eyes at her, downs a bit of his gin and tonic. 

"You said that about the last one and he laughed in your face when you told him your dog had died."

"And the one before that forgot your birthday," pipes up Louis, designated driver, coke in hand. 

"Oh god, and the one before that -" Harry groans, and Louis and him burst out laughing. "Ow," he exclaims, when he feels a sharp jab at his shin. Niall grins at him triumphantly, and then tucks a strand of loose hair behind Zayn's ear gently. 

"Don't listen to them," she says warmly, loud enough to be heard of the ruckus outside of their booth. Zayn shoots her a grateful smile and Harry can't help but roll his eyes again. 

"That's the reason why I'm asking you, Haz, please? You can make sure he's not a complete ass," Zayn turns her bright dark eyes back to her best friend in the whole wide world, determined not to be thwarted from her mission, and Harry wishes he was more sober for this. "He's in your English class and you know everyone and everyone likes you. Scope him out for me? Tell me what he likes?" 

"You sure you're talking about _our_ Harry?" Niall interrupts, voice teasing. Louis sniggers but Zayn shakes her head.

"As much as I hate to admit it, Harry could charm the pants of any man or woman if he wanted," she says with a kind of drunken certainty and an over-exaggerated hand gesture. "He's _good_ at it, it's only fair he shares the wealth right?" Harry wants to bang his forehead on the table in frustration. 

"Zayn -" Louis grips his knee under the table and Harry is grounded by the pressure. He sighs. "Fine. But you know your life would be a lot easier if you could just love me." Zayn throws her head back and laughs at the old joke, and Louis' fingers tighten, but Harry's ok, he's been ok with this for years. One more awful boy friend isn't going to break him. He throws in a playful pout for good measure and then whips out his wallet, leaves money on the table for his own drinks and Zayn's too. The rest of them pull out their own money and then they're all standing, pulling on their coats (Zayn's got one of Harry's older ones, Harry can't believe he missed that when they got here) and piling into Louis' car. 

Louis drops Niall off first, she's headed to see her boy friend after his gig and there is the appropriate amount of catcalling and whistles as she exits. 

Next stop is the flat Harry shares with Zayn and Louis gives him a significant look that Harry ignores as usual as he opens the car door.

"Thanks," he mutters. Louis just shakes his head sadly and Harry wonders idly how his life managed to get this depressing. 

Zayn leans into him as he fishes for his key, closing her eyes, breathing steady. 

"Water?" he asks when they're in. She nods gratefully, a small smile gracing her lips in thanks and even with her eyeliner smudged with the day and her face blank with tiredness she looks beautiful. Harry focuses on pouring the water _into_ the glass. 

When he hands it to her she kisses him on the cheek and with a quiet "Night Haz," she retreats to her room, closing the door behind her. 

Harry grips the countertop roughly, tries not to pray that this new guy is a complete tosser. Or gay. 

Louis often calls hims a masochist and Harry _knows_ there's a reason for it, but he also wouldn't give up living with Zayn, being close to her, spending hours on the couch watching good movies or cooking brunch together on a Sunday morning. He wants to be there to massage her feet after a long day of work and remind her of home when she's feeling down. That's what friends are for, right? Besides, she's got three brothers, she's used to living with men. It's not like she prances about in her underwear in front of Harry or shaves her legs with the door open. They both live like mature adults and respect each other's boundaries and things are _fine_. They _are._

And ok, occasionally she walks into the room wearing one of his ratty old shirts and takes his breath away, or lifts her hair to tie it up so his gaze catches on the beautiful curve of her neck, but she also keeps the flat generally tidy and does his wash, so it's worth the sacrifice, right. 

And it's not _her_ fault he's been in love with her since they were 16, and he can't bloody well put her out for something she didn't do on _purpose_. Right?

He groans out loud and wipes his face with his hands.

Bed. Now. 

\--

"Well?" she asks expectantly. 

"Mm, smells delicious, thanks babe," he grins at her, trying to feign innocence. She rolls her eyes. 

" _Hazza,"_ she whines and he sends her one of his best smirks. "C'mon, be a sport? I made spaghetti because I know it's your favorite -" 

"And I said it was delicious didn't I?!"

"What's delicious?" Louis calls, letting himself in. Zayn lets out a huff that shouldn't be endearing and almost spills the tomato sauce. So clumsy, Harry thinks fondly, before he can stop himself. 

"Harry was about to tell me about Parker," Zayn pouts, shooting Louis an impatient look as he pulls up a chair and grabs a bowl. 

"His name's Parker? He's probably a dick," Louis groans and Harry laughs appreciatively. "How'd you meet him anyway, Zayner?" 

Zayn wrinkles her nose at the pet name Louis's stolen from her brothers. He's the only one other than them that gets to call her that.

"He stumbled into the art studio when I was working once, looking for the history building. Complimented my work and everything," she beams. "He's new, but we talked about classes and I found out he had english with Haz and -"  She looks up at Harry so hopeful and eager and Harry already has trouble denying her anything. He sighs. 

"He just transferred here," Harry says slowly. "History. Spends most of his days in the library and his nights at the pub across from Thomas'. And he's a footballer. That's all I managed. Seems like a decent guy," he admits reluctantly.

Zayn grins at him excitedly.

"See, I told you he's not a shithead," she exclaims triumphantly. "You'd like him too Louis, I promise. He's gorgeous." Louis laughs, ruffles Harry's hair.

"But no one could be prettier than our Harry," he protests. Harry blushes, musses his hair up over his eyes before flipping it back. Zayn's laughing and when he catches her eye she sticks her tongue out at him playfully. 

"So I have your permission then, Mr. Styles? I can bring him home for family dinner?" Her voice is light but Harry knows she's actually cares for his opinion and the question is a punch to the stomach. He _wants_ to tell her no, please, _love me_. But he dutifully keeps his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth. 

Luckily, the time saves his ass.

"Fuck, I've got to head out," she after a glance at the microwave time She stands up and leans forward over Harry to grab her bag. "I'll be back late, _try_ to get some revising done, you two." She squeezes Louis' shoulder, smiles gently at Harry and is out the door. 

When Harry hears the door slam he slumps forward, burying his face in his hands. 

"Come on," Louis says, grabbing a few beers from the fridge and leading Harry to the couch for a _harry you're pathetic but i love you so_ cuddle. "Well -?" 

"He could be it," Harry says miserably, taking a large gulp of his beer. 

" _Hazza_ ," Louis rebukes gently, "let's not get ahead of ourselves here. You said that about the uh, the golfer too and he was a complete tosser." 

"No, I'm serious Lou. She's right, you really _would_ like him. Hell, I even like him, and I'm trying my best not to. He's funny and smart and people get on with him already," Harry groans and burrows further Louis' chest. "Damn it. I'm a horrible friend." 

"Oh Harry," Louis says sadly, "It'll be alright -"

"It's just -" Harry interrupts, words flowing out before he can put a lid on it, "As much as it fucking kills me to see her with those godawful boys she decides on, this is going to be worse isn't it? Because she's actually going to _like_ him and he'll stick around and I'll have to get to know him and -" 

"You know what you have to do then right," Louis says. It's not a question and his voice is smiling again and he sounds like he usually does before a really terrible idea comes out of his mouth. Harry braces himself, looks up at his friend, forehead creased in question. "You prick. Make her fall for you first." 

Harry stares at him. 

"What?" 

"Well if you're really worried that he might be the one, then finish it before it even starts," Harry blinks. "Just _tell her how you feel_ , Haz." That's. Well that actually makes sense. 

"But what if she -" 

"Harry. Just. Take her to the movies. Pack her a picnic lunch. You're telling me you've got nothing to lose right? Because if she gets with this guy, he might be the one, and then you've really missed your shot so just. _Sod it_. You know her better than anyone. Just _make moves_." 

"I -" he looks down at where Louis's tracing patterns into the crook of his arm. 

"She'd be a fool not to like you," Louis says softy, confidently, and Harry smiles a hesitant smile. 

"Alright." 

"Really?" Louis' eyes widen and there's a slow, sincere grin being sketched on his face, the grin Harry _loves_. 

"Yeah," he says, and he finds his voice is surprisingly sure. Louis lets out a holler and clinks their beer bottles together, a look of pure satisfaction on his face.

" _Finally_ ," he drawls, drawing Harry in even closer. 

\--

Harry frets and frets over how to tell Zayn, how to _show_ her how he feels about her. Throws out plan after plan, talks Louis' ear off, even interrupts Niall's lunch (a bold move, even for Harry) to sound ideas off of her. 

And in the end, it doesn't matter, because as they say, shit just happens, one _fucking_ thing after another. 

He's putting on his shoes and grabbing his bag for class when she gets the phone call. It's her brother, Harry can tell instantly by her grin, but then her face pales, and she sinks heavily into the couch, remote control falling heavily to the floor with a thud. She says yeah a few times, closes her eyes and takes deep breaths. 

"Okay, yeah. I love you too. I'll be there as soon as I can. Give her my love," the phone clicks shut and she crumples in on herself. Harry's instantly toeing off his kicks and settling into the couch beside her, pulling her into his lap and wrapping his arms tight around her. 

"What's wrong babe? What's happened?" he whispers, when her breathing's calmed down. 

"It's mum, Haz. She's got cancer." Harry feels sick suddenly, and he grips her tighter. 

"You're - fuck. Do they know -?" Zayn shakes her head and Harry feels it against his chest. 

"It's breast cancer, early stages. They have to do more tests and -. Shit. I have to go back home." Harry nods. 

"Yeah. S'alright. We'll get your notes and talk to professors and stuff. It'll be alright." She looks up at him and her eyes are bright with unshed tears and Harry wants to kiss them away, kiss everything away, but he shoves the feeling down impatiently. 

"I don't want -" she starts, lowers her head once more so her cheek rests against Harry's heart. She tucks her toes in between Harry's legs. "Will you come with me?" 

"I - Are you sure?" She sniffs. 

"You've always been great with her, I'm sure she'll love to see you and - I can't -" Harry thinks he understands. Zayn and her mother have never really gotten along. Mrs. Malik is a traditional woman who never could see the dreams Zayn painted about uni and art. Right before Zayn and Harry had left home things had been rough between the two women, with Harry and her younger brothers often playing Switzerland. "I just - I don't want to go alone," she continues, and  Harry nods, runs a hand through her straight black hair. 

"Yeah, of course I'll come Zayn, I'm right here, whatever you need." The way she looks at him right then, eyes wide, lips curved up in a half smile that still carries a touch of sadness, absolutely _stunning_ \- Harry almost wishes it weren't true. 

\--

They take the bus to Bradford. Zayn sleeps fitfully, her head bobbing every time the bus shifts. Harry wants to pull her into his chest, feel her relax against him, but he's not sure he's allowed and that physically _hurts_.

\--

They meet her three brothers in the hospital and Harry feels exhausted just looking at them but they huddle around Zayn and him like they're the best things since Christmas and Harry wants to cry. Zayn's tearing up though and he promised her he'd be strong enough for the both of them so he sucks it the fuck up and embraces her family like his own. 

Harry moves to wait with the boys while Zayn goes into the room but Zayn shakes her head and takes his hand and they walk in together. Her mum doesn't look too bad, Harry decides, even with all the wires coming in and out of her. She's just resting now, the doctors have said. They'll start round two of chemo and radiation soon, but the treatment's already taken a toll on her and so they're giving her some room to breathe. She still looks beautiful, features harder than Zayn's but just as striking and Harry wants to pull her to him, just like he used to. 

The two Malik women stand and stare at each other for a time, and then Zayn's mum smiles, turns to Harry. 

"You've grown handsomer, Harry _beta_ ," she says and her voice is raspier than usual but she's trying. "It is only too bad Zayn, that you could not snag him." It's a joke they've always had, but it comes out harsher now and Harry sees Zayn's mouth set in a line.

"I don't think one woman could hold Harry's attention for long anyway, mum," Zayn says, "But thank you for pointing that out." Harry stiffens, wincing at the realization that dawns in her mother's eyes as they pass over him. 

" _Sonihya_ ," her mum whispers then. "I'm sorry. I'm glad to see you. I'm glad you could come -" and Zayn relents, forgives. Her eyes have filled with tears at the old nickname and she takes the outstretched hand her mum offers, Harry's a sure support in the small of her back. 

\--

"Haven't been here in ages," Harry remarks, eyes wandering around Zayn's room, exactly as he remembers it. 

"The only boy allowed up here," Zayn quips, and Harry laughs as he remembers that conversation with her mother. "Dunno why she trusts you, you're suspiciously charming," she moves closer to him and Harry musses his hair over his eyes to cover his blush. 

"Am I?" he asks her quietly.

"Quite," she says, voice as cheeky as she can manage, looking up from where her chin rests on his chest.

"How are you holding up?" he asks then, hands moving to cup her waist. She sighs, drums her forehead into his chest. 

"I'm alright, I suppose. It's just - all a shock and -" she shakes her head. "Didn't think this could be _my_ story, you know? Sick mum, four abandoned kids -" 

"S'not. Stop that," Harry rebukes gently. "We'll get there if we get there, alright?" She nods. 

"Thanks, Haz," she says softly, offers him a tired smile. He squeezes her shoulders in answer. 

"You must be exhausted. I'll take the couch downstairs alright -?" Zayn snorts. 

"You're two feet too tall for that couch Hazza, just sleep here. Bed's plenty big enough." 

"S'not a good idea Zayn -" 

"Don't be stupid. S'not like my mum's home to yell and -" her gaze falters for a moment and she looks lost and young and Harry backtracks quickly. 

"S'alright I'll stay, c'mon now," he leads her gently to the bed, hands never leaving her.  "Bed." 

\--

Harry wakes up to the creak of the bedroom door opening. It's still dark outside, but as his eyes adjust he makes out Zayn's youngest brother standing at the foot of the bed, stretching out miserably the light t-shirt he's wearing. 

He reaches out to shake Zayn awake as gently as he can manage. She's curled up in her sleep, both hands tucked under her head, big toe brushing Harry's shin lightly.

"mm?" she mumbles, stirring slowly. 

"S'your brother, Zayn. He's here," Harry whispers gently. She starts awake at that, sits up abruptly. 

"Baby, what's wrong?" 

"Can't sleep, Zayner," he sniffles. 

"Come here, _shona_ ," she says, reaching out for him, and he clambers into bed between the two of them, slipping under the covers clumsily and turning in to bury his face in Zayn's hair. Harry hesitates and then settles behind him, stretching an arm across his waist lightly, and rubbing against Zayn's soothingly.

"Are you two married?" Saafir asks, voice slurred by drowsiness. Zayn lets out a little laugh and kisses his forehead and Harry's heart has suddenly made a home in his throat. 

"No, _shona_ , don't be silly. Sleep now," she whispers, voice laced with mischief and overflowing with feeling and Harry has never been more in love. 

\--

The next few days pass in a blur of hospital visits and morose conversations. Zayn and her older brother go to the hospital in the morning and don't come back until late night. They sit by their mother's bedside and deal with treatment plans and hospital bills and news from the doctors. After the first day, Harry stays home. He doesn't mind at all. Saafir and Wali are thrilled to have him and he spends his time devising distractions that usually consist of FIFA and bicycling and roughhousing. 

Harry cooks for the first time in awhile, too and he doesn't mind that, either. He's always been quite good at it so it's not a complete disaster. There's not much food left in the fridge and the cupboards have only got soup, though, so he takes the boys out for a trip to the grocery store, buys them their favorite treats as well as the necessities. He has the boys help him do the washing, and they make a game out of the laundry and tidying up.

In the evenings Zayn, Daniyal and Harry sit around the kitchen table and try to decipher receipts and insurance forms. Harry doesn't know much about it himself but he massages Zayn's tense shoulders and distracts the kids from their tough questions. 

And in the nights, Zayn whispers _thank you_ over and over again from an arms length away on the bed and Harry wants nothing more than to pull her close to him, tell her fiercely to shut up because he's _here_ , he'll always be here. Always. 

He desists though, shoves the words back down his throat and she falls asleep curled in on herself, hair splayed out on the pillow. 

\--

When there's nothing more to be done Zayn decides it's time for them to go. They can only miss so many classes, and she's got her job to hold on to and - 

Harry doesn't say anything, but he knows. She can't stand to sit around and do nothing, it's driving her bonkers. 

They visit the hospital together one last time. When they enter the room Harry looks around in surprise. Zayn had brought in a few things of her mum's - paintings, blankets, photographs, plants - and the room has been transformed. Her mother looks much happier with the company and the ambiance. The rosiness is back in her cheeks and she's sitting up working knitting needles at a fast pace, laughing at Harry's expression. 

"Do you like my daughter's handiwork, Mr. Styles?" Harry nods, goes to sit at her bedside and take her hand. "She gets that from me. Just that though. The confidence, the beauty, the _spunk_. That she grew herself." Harry looks toward his dearest friend, the love of his life, standing at the foot of the bed with her hand over her mouth doing her best to hide a smile. 

"Mum -" she says softly. 

" _Sonihya_." her mum whispers back. "Come back soon." 

"I don't want to leave," Zayn mumbles, coming round to embrace her mother. 

"I don't want you to leave," her mum murmurs. "But you must. Don't worry, I'll be here when you get back." Zayn nods reluctantly. "Take care of my daughter, Harold." Harry smiles a sad smile. 

"I promise, Mrs. Malik." 

\--

The bus ride back is long and uncomfortable and Zayn looks miserable. Harry thinks she's going to burst into tears, and then she does, sobbing into her hands, drawing her sweatshirt up in front of her face. Harry puts his arm around her and pulls her to him like he's been wanting to do all week, pushing her hoodie away to wipe away her tears. 

"Zayn," he whispers softly. "I'm sorry Zayn. S'gonna be ok. You're alright." He lets her hair wrap around his fingers, holds her tightly until the pressure calms her and her breathing slows and they sit like that for a good moment in silence. 

"Thank you," she whispers finally, "Not just for this but for - for everything. You've been great and I -" Harry waves words away, tilts her chin up so she has to look at him and they're so close and her hand is clenched in the thin material of his t-shirt.

"You don't need to thank me, babe. It's - I would do anything for you." Her gaze drops to his lips then and Harry's eyes trace the graceful line of her neck as she swallows and he can't stop himself, he presses his lips gently to hers. She's still for a moment, lips pliant against his and unmoving, but then she presses back, returns chaste kisses, sighing softly. 

When he pulls away her eyes dim for a moment and she looks down. 

"You didn't have to - You don't have to feel sorry for me. I'm going to be alright and -" 

"I don't. What? Zayn. I don't feel - this isn't about. I've wanted to. For a long time. I've wanted. I want you," the words fall out in a rush and this is an awful idea because she's going to freak out and they're trapped on a _bus_ for the next hour and fuck. 

She fidgets with her unused ipod, wrapping and unwrapping her headphones around it, wound tight. 

"Harry it's - there's just a lot going on with mum and the family and I - it's too much. I'm not sure how to go about -"

"No you're right," Harry says hurriedly. "S'okay. We'll - we'll forget it ever happened." He fishes for his own ipod, swirls through his music and puts his headphones in. Raises his hands up to her in surrender. "See. Never happened." 

Zayn frowns slightly but Harry closes his eyes, turns the volume up. Out of the corner of his eye he watches Zayn hesitate, and then do the same. 

They ride together in silence. 

\--

They're silent too when they arrive at the bus station, and when they spot Niall's car waiting for them in the lot. They don't say a word as Niall embraces Zayn, kissing her on the forehead, before standing on tip toe to kiss Harry's as well. 

"Missed you both dreadfully," she says as they get into the car. "Lou's been driving me up a wall." Zayn laughs quietly at that and Harry smiles as he watches Niall interlace her and Zayn's fingers around the gear stick and drive one handed all the way back to their flat.

\--

It's tense once more when they enter their flat together, the space seems entirely too small and Harry's finding it hard to breathe. He sighs in relief when Zayn retires to her room without a word and settles on the couch, lanky form thrown about haphazardly, beer in hand. 

He's just about to get interested in the nameless film showing on the telly when Zayn rejoins him. She settles on the opposite end of the couch and the space between them is noticeable and awkward. She clears her throat. 

"We should - We should talk about what happened," she says after a moment, and Harry braces himself. "It's just. You know I can't do whole casual sex, friends with benefits thing that you do. I always fuck it up. And - especially with you. You're my. You're my best friend and you know everything about me and we _live_ together and. It's too intimate. It'd be too easy to -" 

"Fall in love with you? Yeah. I'm well aware," Harry interrupts miserably. He stands, moves away from the couch, his back to her, musses up his hair. He could leave it here, not say anything else but - he's Harry and this is _Zayn_ and he's bloody well not going to do this halfway.

"I get it, Zayn," he says finally, "But it's too late. I'm already in love with you."

Her eyes are wide when he turns back around, and she's standing now, mouth slightly parted, and now that he knows how those lips feel against his- he closes his eyes against the desire that pools low in his stomach.

"But. Why - ?" she stutters out, unable to look away, coloring slightly as the words leave her. Harry scoffs in disbelief, begins taking steps towards her. 

"You're beautiful, Zayn. And smart. And you have a brilliant smile and you're a bit clumsy but I like it. And-" he's so close now he can see the way her pupils have dilated. He smirks slightly. "And you deserve a million times better than those shit guys you put up with," he kisses her then, hard and decidedly unchaste. She whimpers into it, arches up against him. He licks into the seam of her mouth, runs his hands down her sides, enjoys the way she feels small beneath his big palms.

"And that'll be you will it?" she's trying to sound skeptical but it comes out breathless and half laughing and he kisses her again.

"Fuck yeah," he murmurs against her neck. And it's probably not his most articulate moment but she's pulling him down on top of her on the couch so he figures she can't tease him about it later.

He settles between her legs, takes a moment to enjoy her laid out beneath him, eyes fluttering shut, lips bruised, shirt rucked up around his palm. He tangles one hand in her hair like he's always wanted to and kisses her more gently, coaxing her to part her lips for him, allow him to get closer.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Zayn asks around a whimper, even as she cants her hips upwards. His vision blurs with the friction and he buries his face in her neck, tries to refocus.

"I've wanted this for longer than I can remember," he says finally, when his breathing has slowed slightly. "I'm sure. But-" he hesitates, too embarassed to face her. He kisses her neck, "If this isn't what you want. If you're unsure - we should stop or-" his voice tapers off and he breathes in her scent like courage, "or you'll break my heart, Malik," he all but murmurs against her skin. There is a moment filled only by their breaths and then Zayn lets out of rush of air.

"So Harry Styles turns out to be a one woman man after all," she sniggers against his shoulder. He pulls away to look at her, hurt.

"Zayn-" he warns, but she simply smiles shyly at him, arches up to kiss the corner of his mouth, then leans back again to settle against the couch pillow comfortably.

"Harry," she whispers. And she's gazing up at him, eyes bright, a shade of rose adorning her cheeks.

_You're so beautiful_ spills out of him, hushed and reverent. She blushes full now, closes her eyes for a moment against the intensity of his gaze.

"Yours," she says when she's opened her eyes once more, looking straight at him, into him. "Yours, Harry, I've always been -" he cuts her off with a long perfect kiss, heart swelling in his chest.

"Good," he says when can pull himself away, nips at her bottom lip one last time. "Now, clothes off." He tugs at her shirt and she manages to wriggle out of it, lifting her hands up and out of the way. He reaches around her and unhooks her bra deftly one with one hand.

" _Damn,_ " her eyebrows are raised and her smile is cheeky and Harry rolls his eyes, tries not to blush and smile stupidly all at once.

"Shut up," he murmurs, sliding the straps off her arms gently. Her laugh turns into a moan as he kisses between her breasts, tonguing a pattern there.

The whimpers she makes as he thumbs underneath her breast and then pinches her nipple are driving him crazy. He's painfully hard in his jeans but he ignores it, focuses instead on placing open mouthed kisses down her stomach, running hands up her endless legs. He tugs her shorts down, lets them tangle at her feet and leans in to kiss her through her knickers, lapping at the wet spot already there. She's squirming and moaning his name now, low in her throat, canting her hips up against the firm hold he has on her. He moves slightly, licking lightly at the crease between her thigh and her folds and she keens, a litany of _fuck haz c'mon_ falling from her lips.

He gives into her pleas after only a moment, sliding her underwear down and resettling between the vee of her legs. When he glances up her eyes are hooded and when he breathes slowly, deliberately between her legs she throws her head back, tangles her hands in his hair.

He kisses at her clit before nipping at it slightly, circling with his tongue over and over before dipping down to taste her wetness. When he feels her relax around his tongue, he slips in a finger. She's dripping wet and he buries his moan in kitten licks over her most sensitive spot, adding a second finger in concert.

" _Fuck,"_ she moans out, tightening her legs around his back. "Harry, god, _please."_ He crooks his fingers up inside of her and sucks hard on her clit and she comes suddenly, his name drawn out and positively _filthy_ on her lips, clenching and pulsing around him and driving Harry mad. His tongue slows as she comes down and only when she's completely relaxed and languid beneath him does he sit back on his feet and pull his dick out of his trousers to get a frantic hand on himself. 

"I can -" Zayn offers, her gaze intent on him and just the feel of it makes him _desperate_ with it. He shakes his head. 

"Close," is all he manages to get out before he's coming over her belly with a low groan."Fuck, sorry." 

"S'alright," she reassures him, but she's laughing slightly. 

"Shuddup, s'been awhile," he mumbles, handing her her t-shirt from the floor. She wipes her stomach up and tosses the soiled shirt aside, and then pulls up her underwear in a clumsy sort of dance before moving so Harry can lay out on the couch beside her.

"C'mere," she whispers, resting her head against his chest and wrapping an arm around him, perfectly content to lay her almost completely bare body next to his fully clothed one. "Has it really been that long?" there's no mirth in her voice, only simple curiosity.

"A year, maybe," he responds hesitantly. Her eyes widen in disbelief and for a moment she says nothing. Then -

"How come you never stop me? When I call you a lady's man or a whore?" she asks him, folding her hands over his chest and resting her chin on them to look at him. Harry smiles reluctantly up at her. 

"Because then you'd just bring up that time I slept with my english professor." She snorts, almost falls off the couch in an attempt to bury her laughter in him. 

"Oh my god, _and_ the TA. Jesus, I'd forgotten about that." 

"They were both fit," Harry defends and Zayn shoves him slightly in the ribs. 

"Hey!" Harry's smirking but then his face turns serious and he reaches out to run a thumb over her cheek, counting her long eyelashes as they flutter closed.

"Zayn," he whispers, "I want -" 

"I know," she cuts him off, breath already starting to even out. "I do too." 

\--

When Louis finds out he kisses them both full on the lips and nearly collapses with relief and Niall hides giggles behind her palms and forces Harry to buy drinks for them all in celebration. Harry happily obliges her. 

Under the table Zayn squeezes his knee and he turns her hand to interlace their fingers and kisses her on the ear. She squeals and flails nearly knocking over her drink and Harry chuckles and pulls her in close like he always wants to. As she settles against Harry once more, Louis raises his bottle to clink against his.

There's no sad tinge to his smile anymore, instead his eyes crinkle with happiness as he holds Harry's gaze. 

He's smiling the smile that Harry loves. 

_fin_


End file.
